Total pages in book: 26
Estimated words: 24103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 121(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
That’s why I’m so angry about the clusterfuck that happened this morning. Nerilda knows I only pay for virgins. It’s just my thing. I like my women real young, and these days, girls lose their bloom so fast it’s incredible. Have I dabbled on the wrong side of the law, sparring with jailbait? Yeah, probably. Have I taken a woman without checking her ID before ripping her dress off? Yeah, so sue me. Or de-throne me. Whatever it is, it’s not going to change my ways.
But the woman this morning was a far cry from being a virgin. I knew as soon as I tasted her with my forked tongue. I slid my tongue up her asshole, and sure enough, there was the tang of another man’s sperm. Then, when I fingered her pussy, her hymen was missing.
“What the fuck?” I growled. “What is this?”
The blonde girl looked at me with innocent blue eyes.
“Yes, my prince?” she breathed, cupping her big breasts in offering to me. “What’s wrong?”
I pushed her off the couch immediately, my face dark with anger. She landed with a loud thump, and a startled, “Oof!” But before she could open her mouth, I was already raging.
“What the fuck? I only fuck virgins. Your boss knows that.”
“But I am a virgin!” the blonde girl exclaimed. “The lack of a hymen doesn’t mean anything! I probably lost it when I was horseback-riding.”
I rolled my eyes. For some reason, whores always think that high-born ladies are on horses 24/7. They think that being an equestrienne is the mark of a noblewoman, and that wearing jodhpurs and a black domed helmet is the epitome of taste. Of course, having grown up around horses, I know that the animals are huge, smelly, and that it’s a surefire way to develop bowed legs. It’s bad for your posture, and costs a fortune too.
But the whores don’t know that, and so it wasn’t my first time hearing the “riding took my hymen” excuse. Unreal, right? But there you have it. With a disgusted shake of my head, I kicked the blonde out of my private quarters immediately, throwing her shit out after her. Then I made a call to Nerilda to complain, demanding another “virgin sacrifice” to replace this morning’s defective offering. What the fuck was wrong with this woman? I swear, some madames don’t know their own product.
Nerilda couldn’t apologize fast enough, saying that she’d have another girl here tonight. As a result, I wait, lounging around on my couch. Fuck. It’s been such a long day and I could definitely use an orgasm or two to relieve the stress. If Nerilda fucks this one up as well, I’ll set fire to the woman, and then to her whorehouse as well. What was it called again? Ah yes, the House of Silk.
At that moment, a discreet knock sounds on the door.
“Come,” I bark. There’s no reason to be a gentleman. These are working girls, after all, and they don’t expect much in the way of manners. The door creeps open, and before me stands a gorgeous girl whose beauty is breathtaking. She’s got long brown hair with the curls draped attractively over one shoulder, as well as big brown eyes and a delicate, tip-tilted nose. Her mouth is bee-stung and a fetching petal-pink, while her body makes my mouth go dry.
After all, I like my women voluptuous, and the new girl certainly fits the bill. Huge breasts are encased in a tight lace top, and she’s got a narrow waist that flares out into wide hips. Beneath a swishy mini-skirt, I glimpse thick thighs, and I swallow hard. I’ve always loved a woman with thick thighs, and the thought of having her on her back with those creamy pins clenched around my neck makes my anatomy harden immediately.
“Prince Haakon?” she asks in a dulcet voice once the door shuts. “Hi, I’m Martha. Nerilda sent me over.”
I rise to my full height from the couch, towering over the small brunette.
“Welcome,” I say in a smooth tone. “Have we met before?”
After all, there’s something familiar about the woman’s features, although I can’t say what. Maybe it’s my libido playing tricks on me. Or maybe, it’s the fact that I’ve slept with so many women at this point that they all look familiar.
She lets out a gentle laugh.
“No, I don’t think so,” she murmurs. “I’d remember if we had, Prince Haakon.”
“Please, call me Haakon,” I say, gesturing for her to sit. “No “prince” necessary. Can I get you a drink?”
She swallows, and I watch with avid eyes as that slender neck ripples.
“Um sure,” Martha says, seating herself on the huge sofa I have in my living quarters. “I’ll have a water, please.”
My black brows rise.
“That’s all? You know it’s okay to drink on the job. I won’t tell anyone, least of all Nerilda.”